


You've Got a Moan All Of Your Own

by rider_break97



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: AMAB nonbinary character, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Comfort, Desperation, Edging, Embarrassment, Honestly that's really what this is more than anything, I totally just realized that that tag works for this lol, In Public, M/M, Masturbation, Military Background, Mutual Pining, Non-Binary Byleth, Omorashi, Other, Pants wetting, Piss kink, Pissing in Public, Sharing Clothes, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, Watersports, Wet Clothing, Wetting, Will add more tags as I go, a slow burn romance with just a lot of kinky shit in between, and there will definitely be sexual content later, but it's not all that important, it may come up but it's not a focus, it's clothed wetting that surmounts in sexual arousal, just needed a reason for caspar to be 23 and a freshman, pee desperation, sorta - Freeform, tagging this as ws because even tho it's all clothed-wetting as of rn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21769870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rider_break97/pseuds/rider_break97
Summary: Byleth wrestles with the idea of being attracted to one of their students. Caspar is really trying to make a good impression on his hot professor, but his bladder is making that a real struggle.---Read the tags, you have been warned.Byleth is AMAB non-binary (normally I wouldn't even specify what sex they were assigned but this story gets hella sexual later on and I didn't want anybody to see "non-binary" and then be surprised when I start talking about their dick). Byleth is 28, Caspar is 23. This is just self-indulgent fantasy and is completely consensual. I don't support predatory teachers.Title is from the song "Moan" by Cute is What We Aim ForTitle also may change idk I'm not done with this one yet.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 7
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

Byleth was rather young when they started teaching at Garreg Mach University, so they were no stranger to feeling attracted to their students. Some of them were only a few years younger than themself, after all. Of course, as Byleth got older, the students remained the same age, and it wasn’t like Byleth would ever actually _do_ something about it. They were nothing more than passing crushes, small attractions that would usually dissipate once the semester ended.

This was why, when a student with bright blue hair came up to them after class to ask for help with the material, Byleth didn’t find themself entirely surprised at the jitteriness in their stomach.

“Professor?” the student started. Byleth quickly scanned through the class’s roster in their head, searching for the boy’s name.

“Yes, Caspar?”

“Um, so on the quiz you passed back today…” Caspar flashed the paper in front of Byleth’s face. A D-minus. Ouch.

“I’m sorry, Caspar. I can’t change your grade.”

“No, no, I know that! I was wondering if you could help me a bit so I can understand what I did wrong? I need to pass this class to graduate, so I _need_ to do better on the next exam.”

Byleth checked their watch. They only had about six minutes until their next lecture started. That wasn’t nearly enough time to go over the quiz in detail. “I’m a bit busy right now,” they said. “Are you available around 3 today? You can come see me during my office hours.”

Caspar shook his head. “No, I have Intro to Psychology then.”

Byleth pursed their lips, trying to come up with a solution. “Tell you what,” they said. “Why don’t we meet up for lunch tomorrow in the student center? I can help you out then. My treat.”

Caspar’s eyebrows lurched slightly. “For real? That’s so nice of you, Professor.”

Byleth smiled. They can’t say it was entirely devoid of ulterior motives. Okay, so Byleth sometimes treated their student-crushes a little bit better than their other students. It’s natural to have favorites, of course. Though, Byleth always tried to be as impartial as they could. “Special treatment” in this case meant buying lunch for a cute student while teaching him about Robert Frost, not trading blowjobs for better grades.

Though Byleth couldn’t say they wouldn’t be into that. But no, they shook the thought aside. Maybe it was fun to fantasize about, but that’s all it could ever be: a fantasy.

Byleth didn’t think the school had a rule against dating the students; hell, when they’d been a student here themself, one of their professors was married to a former student of his. But Byleth knew they’d rather not risk it. Plus, being 28 years old, they were nearly a decade older than some of these students. Byleth didn’t know exactly how old Caspar was, but considering he was in an introductory literature course, he was probably a freshman. Way too young for Byleth, anyway.

They made plans to meet in the student center around one the next day. Caspar, the cutest relieved smile plastered on his face, thanked Byleth, shook their hand, and headed out the door just as some of the next class’s students began taking their seats.


	2. Chapter 2

Where the fuck was the bathroom in this place? Caspar silently cursed himself for not going before leaving his dorm, but he was already running late, and didn’t want to make a bad impression on the Professor.

Though in hindsight, showing up with wet jeans probably wouldn’t make the best impression anyway.

Not that Caspar was going to wet himself. No, it wasn’t that bad, not yet. Plus, he was 23 years old, and spent a fair amount of time in the army. His bladder should be trained for shit like this. Still, it had been a fair amount of time since he was discharged, and he  _ had _ kind of made it a point to never,  _ ever _ think about his time in the military again. So maybe he’d lost his edge. All those years of bladder training for nothing.

Fuck, he had to pee. But where were the goddamn bathrooms? Caspar swore he’d been all over the first floor but hadn’t seen them. He was about to give up and ask somebody when he saw the Professor, in line at one of the restaurants in the food court. Caspar checked the time on his phone. It was almost one o’clock on the dot. He’d missed his chance. There was no way he could be late. If there was one thing Caspar hated more than anything, it was letting people down. He’d already let his father down by promptly leaving the military the first chance he got, so he wasn’t about to let it happen with somebody else.

Professor noticed him and waved him over. Caspar grimaced and waved back, trying to discreetly squeeze himself through his pocket.

“Hey,” Professor said as he walked up to them.

“Hey,” Caspar said back, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Do you know what you want?”

“Um…” Caspar looked past them at the menu of the restaurant they were in line for. It was some Chinese place, and none of it sounded particularly good. Caspar loved Chinese food, but this was definitely...not Chinese food. This was American food made to look like Chinese food.

“It doesn’t have to be from here. I’ve just been craving some egg rolls.”

Caspar bit his lip. He didn’t particularly want any of the food they were serving here, but the thought of standing in another line with his bladder reaching capacity was torture enough. “Szechuan beef sounds fine.”

“What do you want to drink?”

_ Nothing _ , Caspar thought. If he put anything else in his bladder he seriously might not make it. But he made the mistake of ordering something sort of spicy, so a drink was basically a requirement at this point. “Just water,” he said. He knew sugary drinks would hit his bladder harder and faster, but he could sip on the water for a bit and hopefully be fine.

He was already starting to get jittery, though. He really tried not to pee-dance, but that was getting increasingly more difficult to do. He really hoped they’d get to sit down soon. It’d be easier to hide if he could grab himself under the table.

“Hey, why don’t you go grab us a table,” Professor said. “I’ll meet you there with the food.”

Caspar hoped the relief on his face wasn’t visible. “Yeah, sure,” he said, not wasting any time scrambling to find a table. Once he was seated, he had to physically stop himself from groaning and grabbing at his crotch. He crossed his ankles under the table and took a deep breath.

“You can do this, Caspar,” he whispered to himself. “Just get through an hour of this, finish your lunch and then say you have a class to get to. Just an hour, you can hold it.”

His words fell flat. They didn’t do a very good job of encouraging him. Instead, he felt like he was closer to bursting than ever before.

Thankfully, the food didn’t take very long. It came in styrofoam containers, and when Caspar opened it up, he wasn’t exactly excited to eat the meal inside. Professor set a cup of water down next to him, and then took their own seat across the table. Caspar shrugged, taking a bite of his beef.

It was...surprisingly tasty. It may not have looked especially appetizing, but he couldn’t deny that it tasted good. As expected though, it did have a little bit of a kick, forcing Caspar to take a drink of his water.

He knew as soon as he did that he would regret that in a matter of minutes, and spent the rest of the time picking at his food as little as possible.

“So the thing about this poem,” Professor lectured, “is that it’s often severely misinterpreted.”

“Mhm,” Caspar said, trying his best to listen. It was really hard to concentrate, though. The pressure in his bladder was unignorable at best and downright painful at worst. He kept checking the time on his phone, hoping that he’d made it through the hour he promised himself. Unfortunately, he wasn’t even close. They’d been here barely half that long.

After a while, Caspar was about to give up. He really didn’t want to interrupt Professor when they were taking time out of their busy day to help him, but he really couldn’t hold it anymore. He was about to ask them where the restrooms were and excuse himself, but before he could, Professor closed their book and said, “Can you watch our stuff for a minute, I’m just gonna run to the bathroom real quick.”

_ Fuck. You gotta be shitting me. _ “Yeah,” he strained. “Sure thing.”

“Thanks, be right back.”

As soon as they were out of earshot, Caspar let out a small groan. He used the moment alone to squeeze himself a bit more intensely. Luckily, there weren’t very many people around today. It was a Friday, so a lot of the students had already gone home for the weekend. There were a few stragglers, like himself, who stayed on campus most of the time (anything to avoid going home to his dad), but none of them seemed to even notice his plight, of which Caspar was eternally grateful.

Before too long (but not soon enough), Professor returned and took their seat across the table. Caspar could hardly control his leg-bouncing now, and it took everything he had not to sit doubled over the table with his hands squeezing his dick.

“You okay?” they said. “You look kinda pale.”

“Mhm,” Caspar groaned. “Fine.”

Caspar couldn’t help but notice the look of genuine concern on Professor’s face. It was actually kind of sweet, but Caspar couldn’t even think of that right now. The only thing he could think of was peeing. He had to pee. He  _ needed _ to pee. And soon, very soon, his body was going to force him to. Caspar continued chewing on his bottom lip, so hard it was becoming chapped.

“Here, drink some water,” Professor suggested.

Caspar shook his head. “No, really, that’s...not gonna help.”

Concern mixed with confusion. That’s what Professor’s face looked like. Caspar was straining, hard as he could, but he knew, horrifyingly, that he could not hold back any longer. The dam had more than a few cracks in it, and all that rushing water was finally stronger than it. It broke. Flooded. Caspar was helpless to stop it. Helpless to do anything but watch as the wet patch on the front of his jeans grew and grew and grew, streaming down his legs, spreading around his thighs. A puddle began forming at his sides, creating a small river down either side of the both he was sitting at. He blinked back tears. He couldn’t even look at Professor’s face.

So much for making a good impression.


	3. Chapter 3

Byleth could not believe what they were seeing right now. Caspar groaned quietly, tears beginning to form in his eyes. It was hard to see over the table, but Byleth saw the yellowish puddle pooling beneath him.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Caspar muttered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Look at me,” Byleth said. Caspar looked up, confused. They handed him a napkin. “Dry your eyes. Don’t call attention to yourself.”

Byleth hoped they didn’t sound too forceful or anything, but Caspar just looked more ashamed, so they clarified. “Nobody’s looking at us right now. If you don’t draw attention to us, we can get you out of this without anybody seeing.”

Thankfully, the food court was emptier than usual today. Byleth scanned the area, looking for the possible course of action. As Caspar dabbed at his eyes, Byleth packed up their books and papers, stuffing them haphazardly, but as casually as possible, into their backpack.

When everything was put away, Byleth grabbed their drink cup. They looked at Caspar for a moment, an understanding passing between them. Then, as Byleth pretended to reach for a napkin, they knocked over the cup, spilling soda all over Caspar’s lap.

“Oh shit,” Byleth said just a bit too loudly. “I’m so sorry, Caspar.”

“I-it’s okay,” Caspar said, still a little shaky, but a smile forcing itself through.

“Here are some napkins to clean up the soda I spilled on you.”

“Thanks, Professor.” He took the napkins and tried to soak up as much of the liquid as he could with the cheap, thin paper.

Once the theatrics had died down, Byleth leaned in a bit closer. “Now, there’s an exit to my left. Follow me, and try and pretend like nothing is wrong, okay? Talk casually with me while we’re going. About anything. Sports, video games, classwork, whatever. Just keep talking to me and make it as nonchalant as you can, got it?”

Caspar nodded, still visibly shaken. Byleth grabbed their backpack, and adjusted the raging erection they had before standing up.

Byleth tried not to think about how turned on they were right now. But Caspar was just too cute, wiggling there in his seat, his face all red with embarrassment after he lost it. This was something Byleth had been into for years, but never thought they’d actually see it play out in front of them. They tried to remind themself that this was a student, somebody they were responsible for, not some random hot guy on the internet that they were watching a video of. This was real life, and this was somebody who was actually horrified, embarrassed, and ashamed right now. They tried to keep that in mind, but it didn’t make their hardon go away.

They both stood up and walked out the door, casually chatting about the homework. A few students passed them on the way out, but nobody seemed to notice anything. Caspar’s jeans were dark enough that, while the wetness was definitely noticeable up close, it just looked like part of the design from afar.

“Where are we going?” Caspar asked as Byleth led him to a smaller building to the student center’s northeast.

“This is the art building,” Byleth told him. “We used to use it for band stuff when I went here. There’s a huge basement that nobody ever goes into.”

“Okay?”

“Just trust me, okay?”

Caspar nodded, and followed Byleth into the art building, down the short flight of stairs, and into the basement. It was dark and dingy, and the floor was a little grimy, but it was safe from the wandering eyes of other students. Byleth led Caspar into one of the abandoned basement classrooms, near the janitor’s closet.

Once upon a time, this basement held a number of classes, but as the building fell into disrepair, and the music department moved into a newer building, the classrooms down here were left behind. Abandoned. It was the perfect place to hide out.

“What now?” Caspar asked.

“Do you live on campus?”

He nodded.

“Okay, good. And you said you trust me?”

“After what you did for me in there, I’d trust you with my life.”

Byleth smiled. This was undeniably a horrible situation—for him. But they couldn’t help but feel a little happy that they’d gotten to bond like this.

Byleth cleared their throat. “Take off your pants,” they said.

“Wait, what?” Caspar looked at them with a frightened surprise.

Byleth winced and shook their head. “No, not...not like that. Here’s my plan: I’ll let you borrow my dry pants. You can go back to your dorm, change into dry clothes, and then meet me back here and give me my pants back.”

“That’s...actually a good idea.” Caspar blinked.

Byleth smiled at him, before turning around to give the guy some privacy, while they took off their own pants.

“Oh, and um…” Byleth started.

“Yeah?”

“This is gonna sound really, really weird, but could you take off your underwear, too?”

“What?”

“Your underwear has gotta be soaked, too. If you wear them underneath my pants, it’s gonna get them all wet.”

“Good point,” Caspar said. Byleth could hear the shuffling and, uhh, squelching, of him removing his damp boxers. Still facing away from him, Byleth handed Caspar their khakis and waited as he pulled them on.

When Byleth heard the zipper pull up, and the belt start to buckle, they felt it safe to turn around again.

Caspar looked a bit uncomfortable in their pants, but he looked good. They were maybe a size too big, so he had to tighten the belt pretty far, and the cuffs needed to be rolled up so they wouldn’t drag past his shoes, but the light colored khakis really brought out the blue in his eyes. Byleth could feel themself blushing. Not only did Caspar look _really_ cute in their pants, but they were also standing in front of him in their underwear. Turns out this would be kind of an embarrassing day for the both of them.

“What should I do with the wet clothes?” Caspar asked sheepishly.

“Just leave them here, I guess,” Byleth said, turning away so Caspar didn’t see the red burning their face. “Bring a plastic bag or something to put them in. Oh and don’t forget to bring back my pants.”

Caspar laughed. “But I like this look on you, Professor.”

Byleth didn’t think they could blush any harder, but boy were they wrong. They could also feel their lower body starting to stir again.

“Thanks again for this, Professor,” Caspar said, a sincerity in his voice. He gave Byleth an awkward hug before heading out to return to his dorm.

Byleth looked at the wet clothes Caspar had left behind. His boxers were thrown haphazardly on top of the jeans—a pair of red-and blue plaid boxers, darkened by their wetness. Byleth bit their lip. Their hard-on would not leave them alone.

Maybe a quick sniff wouldn’t hurt.


	4. Chapter 4

There was a strange thrill to wearing the Professor’s pants. Especially since Caspar was going commando. Like, his cock was pressed right up to the hem of their pants. His cock was touching where Professor’s cock probably had before. And when Professor puts them back on, they would be touching where Caspar’s dick had just been. The thought of it made the walk back to his dorm uncomfortable and exciting.

The other thing making his walk back uncomfortable was the fact that he had to pee again. Apparently, despite having completely soaked through his boxers  _ and _ his jeans, his bladder still had not emptied. He wasn’t anywhere near as desperate as he was earlier, though. It was just past the point where he would usually go to the bathroom. His dorm wasn’t very far, so there wasn’t any danger of another accident.

Oof, another accident. That would be bad, since he was wearing Professor’s pants.

_ Although… _

Caspar bit back a smirk. Not here, but once he got back to his room. Maybe. If his roommate wasn’t home. He knew Claude was into some kinky shit from the time he accidentally left his porn tab open before getting into the shower, but Caspar didn’t think he would appreciate Caspar peeing into his professor’s pants in front of him.

Only a little bit! It wasn’t like he was going to completely drench them again. Just enough that it would send a little thrill through him when Professor put them back on.

He was in luck. Claude was indeed home when he got back, but was finishing up packing.

“Heading home for the weekend?” he asked.

“Yep,” said Claude. “My old high school invited me back to play with the band for their alumni night. So the room’s all yours, for all your wild sexcapades.” Claude grinned at him, as if knowingly.

Caspar just laughed. “Like I’m actually getting any action.”

“Oh sure, you’re just wearing pants that are twice your size—that you weren’t wearing this morning, I might add—to hide your chastity belt,” Claude said with a wink. Caspar’s face flared up.

“What are you…?”

“Relax,” Claude said, patting Caspar on the shoulder. “I’m only teasing ya. Have a good weekend with you and your boy-toy.”

Blowing a raspberry at his roommate while he walked out, Caspar headed over to his dresser, pulling out some fresh boxers and a clean pair of jeans. He contemplated for a good minute or so whether or not he should actually go through with his plan.

Sure, it filled him to the brim with excitement, but was it really fair to Professor? They’d been so nice helping him out today, it would be kinda messed up if he repaid that by peeing in their pants.

Then again, Caspar thought he’d noticed the Professor adjusting themself as they stood up to leave the student center, and he couldn’t help but notice how they were watching him as they left. Caspar let himself think, for just a second...could the Professor be kind of...into him? Into...this?

It was probably wishful thinking. There had to be some kind of policy against dating your students. Though, I guess, that didn’t mean they couldn’t be  _ attracted _ to them. I mean you literally can’t make that a rule. People can’t control who they find hot. What they find hot.

And Caspar definitely found the Professor hot.

In fact, on the first day of classes, after he got home, Caspar immediately went to RateMyProfessor and gave them the hotness pepper.

Maybe that was why he’d been so intent on making a good impression on them today. He wanted to look good in front of them, because he had maybe a tiny little crush on them.

Fuck it. He was doing it.

Just a little bit. He relaxed himself just enough to start a stream, then immediately cut it off. To the best of his ability at least. It was really hard to stop once you started, and so Caspar managed to leak a little bit more than he was planning, darkening a streak down light brown khaki with his piss.

“Oops,” he said, laughing to himself. Bouncing for a second, he ran to the bathroom and unzipped, unloading the rest of his bladder into the toilet. Maybe it would have been a better idea to just do this and then let the last couple dribbles escape into the fabric. Oh well, too late for that now.

As Caspar shed the khakis and tossed them onto his bed, he realized how gross he felt. His legs were all soggy and he smelled like piss. His cheeks reddened, hoping that the smell wasn’t super obvious to Claude.

A quick shower couldn’t hurt, right? Caspar tore off his t-shirt and tossed it in the hamper inside his wardrobe, turned on the shower, waited for it to warm up, and stepped inside.


	5. Chapter 5

Byleth had absolutely no willpower. It took barely two minutes after Caspar left for their hardness to become way too much to bear. It was sticking out through the fly of their boxers, leaking pre-cum. They just  _ had _ to do something about it. Who knew when Caspar would be back, and they definitely couldn’t have him walk in on them with a rager like this. They had to be quick about it, though. Again, who knew when he would come back?

Fuck it. Hands sliding over the shaft. Using the pre-cum as lube. Thinking about Caspar, all shaky and embarrassed, thinking about him bouncy and desperate, the wetness spreading down his jeans. Fuck, they were in public. Anybody could have seen. He soaked himself so much. He must have had to go  _ so bad _ . Eyeing the pile of wet clothes. Pumping faster. Looking at his boxers. Knees buckling. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Stifling a moan. Fuck it, nobody was down here. Letting the moan out. Bit lip. Faster. Faster. Eyes closed. Caspar. Eyes snapped open. Eyes glued to his boxers. Fuck, fuck, _ fuck it. _ Grabbing the boxers. So wet. A quick sniff. Pungent, but faint. Caspar was  _ very _ hydrated. The wetness slicking their fingers. Dick begging for more attention. God. Using the wet boxers to jerk off. Oh  _ God _ . They were wet and slick and it felt so good and holy shit and they were close. So close. So, so close. So fucking close.  _ So goddamn close. _

“Fuck,” Byleth grunted as they came forcefully into the boxers. Their breath went jagged, the room spun. As they caught their breath, they looked down at the boxers in their hand, still soaked, but now with an added layer of thick, white cum.

“Shit.” There was no way Caspar wouldn’t notice this. Byleth tried to rub it off best they could on the walls and the desks and even Caspar’s jeans, hoping to spread it thin enough that it wouldn’t be noticeable.

God, Byleth couldn’t believe they’d just done that. That was terrible, that was horrible. This poor guy just had the most embarrassing day of his life, probably, and here Byleth was, horny and aroused and jerking off into the guy’s underwear. They felt a little sick.

But  _ God _ , they couldn’t deny how intense that orgasm was. Byleth wiped the last bit of cum from the head of their dick, shook it off their hand, then balled up the boxers to hide the cumstain and tossed it on top of the jeans.

Byleth, still quivering with shame, sat down at one of the desks to wait for Caspar.

It probably would have been a good idea to trade numbers with him. Then they could text him and ask how far out he was. They were starting to get kind of cold, sitting here in the dark, damp basement in just a shirt and underwear. But Byleth hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Their brain wasn’t exactly functioning at full capacity; half of its blood-flow was being sent a little further south.

Finally, though, Caspar returned, sporting a new outfit, a soggy head of hair, and carrying a plastic bag with Byleth’s pants.

“Did you shower?” Byleth asked.

“Yeah,” Caspar said. “I felt gross.”

“Understandable.” Byleth was a little annoyed that Caspar hadn’t just immediately rushed back to return their pants, but they knew if the situations were reversed they’d probably do the same thing. Byleth slipped his khakis back on, noticing...something. It was minor, but they felt different than they had when Byleth had taken them off. They decided to chalk it up to them getting a little soggy from Caspar’s lamp legs, but Caspar seemed to keep biting back a smile, which made Byleth just a little suspicious.

As Caspar started putting his wet clothes into the plastic bag, Byleth felt a twinge of guilt pass through them. They hoped beyond hope that Caspar couldn’t tell there was a large wad of cum in his boxers. But if Caspar knew anything, he didn’t let on. Just stuffed them into the bag and tied the handles together.

“So what now?” he asked.

Byleth shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you need a ride anywhere?”

“Nah, I’m done with classes for today.”

“Why don’t I drop you back off at your dorm?” Byleth suggested. “You’ve been through a lot today. You deserve some rest.”

“I feel like I need to repay you somehow,” Caspar said. “Like, you helped me out so much today. And you didn’t have to do that.”

Byleth smiled at him. “Yeah, I did. What was I supposed to do? Just let you sit there crying in your own piss? What kind of professor would I be if I let anyone, let alone one of my students, go through that alone?”

A shy smile flashed on Caspar’s face. He bit his lip as he met Byleth’s eyes before quickly directing his gaze towards the musty grey floor. “Okay,” he said. “But I owe you a drink sometime.”

Byleth laughed, clapping a hand on Caspar’s back. “I’ll hold you to that.”


	6. Chapter 6

On the ride back to his dorm, Caspar was brimming with excitement at the knowledge that he would have the place to himself all weekend. He’d been in a rush to get back to the Professor right after his shower, but he was beyond tempted to rub one out while he was there. Even now, his dick pressed against the seam of his pants, and he had to tuck it behind the waistband to hide it.

Professor had offered to take his wet clothes home and wash them for him, relieving Caspar the embarrassment of having to bring his stinking, soaked pants to the dorm’s communal laundry room. So when they pulled up in front of his dorm, Caspar had nothing to bring up but his keys.

“And this is it,” Professor said, placing the car in park. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, I think I’m good. Thanks again, Professor.” Caspar tried not to let his voice sound too enthusiastic. He really was grateful the Professor had been there to help him out. (Plus, he got to see them in their underwear, so how could he really complain?)

“Alright. You have my number now, so give me a buzz if you need anything. I’ll be in touch about when and how I’ll get you your clothes back. Take it easy, okay?”

Caspar grabbed his keys from the lanyard in his back pocket, and step outside of the Professor’s car. “Thanks! Will do.”

They smiled at each other, then Caspar slammed the door shut and watched the car drive off before heading inside.

He nodded at the desk assistant as he entered the building, flashing his ID card, as was procedure. Caspar hadn’t even thought about having to go through the lobby all the way back to his dorm room. He would have been in trouble if he actually did have to carry his soggy pants all the way up. The Professor really did him a huge solid by washing his pants for him.

Normally Caspar would take the stairs up to his room on the fourth floor, but Professor had said to take it easy, so he opted for the elevator this time. Once finally alone in his room, Caspar locked the door behind him, tossed his keys onto his desk and his phone onto the bed, and immediately tore his clothes off.

His dick was still so hard. He hoped it hadn’t been noticeable, but at this point he really didn’t even care. Hell, if somebody saw it and wanted to give him a little help, he definitely wouldn’t say no.

In truth, Caspar had kinda been hoping that the Professor would notice and offer to help. He knew that was crazy, since he was one of their students, and that was probably against so many rules, but he still wanted it. Bad. It wasn’t even just the power fantasy of screwing a teacher (though that was probably part of it), but Professor Eisner was just...they were so fucking hot. 

And the way they’d helped today: immediately taking charge of the situation, helping Caspar escape the student center, going above and beyond to help him by giving him their pants to wear back and get changed. Their compassion really got to him. It was just nice knowing somebody cared enough about him to help him through that embarrassing situation.

Whatever. There was a time and place for deep thinking like that, but now wasn’t the time for thinking, it was the time for jerking!

Hmmm. Should he watch porn? Part of him said yes, since he could actually watch it without headphones and quieting his moans to avoid waking Claude. But part of him knew that he had too much Professor on the brain, and all he wanted to do was think about them. He wished there were porn of the Professor, but he highly doubted that. Besides, how would he even search for it?

He could look up some teacher-student fantasy videos, maybe. Insert himself and Professor into the roles, but that required too much mental effort, and he doubted he could find anybody as hot as the Professor anyway. By the time he decided to just go with his imagination, he realized that he’d been stroking himself the entire time, and was already feeling kinda close.

Caspar pried his hand away from his throbbing cock long enough for the intensity to recede. Geez, he nearly came and he hadn’t even started actually imagining the Professor yet. He let out a small, breathy laugh as he caught his breath.

Once the feeling of closeness was entirely gone, Caspar once again let his hand grip his dick. He wasn’t pre-cumming nearly enough to lubricate himself, so he dug around in his bedside drawer for a bottle of lube, and squeezing it generously over his shaft, giving it a good tug or two to spread it around.

_ Fuck _ . The lube was cold and slimy, but it created  _ just _ the amount of friction Caspar needed. He closed his eyes, settled his head against his pillow, and went to town. His hips bucked as his hand slid up and down the shaft. He bit his lip. Pleasure rippled through him, causing a moan so involuntary it was gone before he had the chance to open his mouth.

Imagination running wild, he pictured the Professor, in his dorm room, totally naked. He imagined the sloppy wet slickness of the lube was their mouth around his cock. His tongue swiped his dry upper lip, and he thought of Professor, glancing up at him with his dick in their mouth. He rubbed his tip with his palm as he thought of them swirling their tongue around the head of his dick. A gasp escaped him.

It felt like soaring. The bed fell away beneath him, and Caspar could feel himself floating through the sky. He sighed contentedly as he continued stroking himself, thinking of the Professor in increasingly sexual ways. It started with the blowjob, and ended with them riding his dick. He gripped himself tighter as he imagined the Professor bobbing up and down on his dick, taking the whole thing inside of them.

_ Oh Caspar _ , the image of the Professor moaned in his mind.

“Fuck,” Caspar gasped, barely above a whisper. “Professor.”

While his right hand was busy pumping his cock, his left hand traveled up his torso, running his fingers through the trail of hair at his midriff, and gently grazing his abs with his fingernails. He caressed his bare chest, circling his nipples, before sliding his hand past his sternum and running his fingers through his bright hair. The gentle sensation tickled his scalp.

Caspar felt himself approaching climax, and, summoning every ounce of willpower in him, tore his hand away, feeling his breathing get faster as his orgasm subsided. Professor had told him to rest tonight, to relax, and well, he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to fucking enjoy this. He wanted it to last as long as possible.

Though, Caspar had never been very good at edging.

Soon enough, his need for that carnal release drove him wild enough to touch himself again. He brought himself closer to the edge than before, and then backed off again.

Caspar tried to time his breathing, to slow his body down so he could last longer. He closed his eyes again and breathed: in through the nose, out through the mouth. It worked, for a second or two. But his dick was throbbing and aching for attention. He was so hard that it hurt. Caspar tried everything to keep his hands off himself, but every time, he thought of the Professor, and every time, it brought him closer. Closer to the edge, closer to his dick.

He tried it again, bringing himself closer. Fuck he was so close. Oh god. Oh  _ god, _ this felt good. Every single muscle in Caspar’s body was shaking, every molecule on the verge of collapse. “Fuck,” he whined, whipping his hand away from his cock once more. But he was just a second too late, and a stream of thin, clear liquid shot out from his tip. 

His breathing was ragged and unsteady, his heart rate dangerously high. It was so intense that tears began welling up in his eyes. He was so close to cumming, so close he could feel it. The pre-cum he just spewed all over his dick was slippery like the lube, and there was a lot of it. Caspar’s dick twitched and his hips thrust into the air.

Steady, Caspar, steady, he told himself. He could do this. He could last longer than this.

Caspar had always been known as a guy with stamina, a guy who outlasted pretty much everybody he’d ever been with. To be brought so close to the edge in such a short time, that was a feat. It had still been about half an hour, but considering he’d had jerk-off sessions that lasted upwards of two and a half hours before, this was uncharacteristically brief.

It was intense though. So intense. Caspar felt like this may end up being the best orgasm of his entire life. He tried so hard to push through it with sheer willpower alone, but his body was stronger than his mind, and it took over for him.

All that pre-cum he released in his near-orgasm made the perfect lubricant. It was slick without being sticky, and coated his dick for the perfect stroke. And that was basically all it took. After mere seconds, Caspar was close again. So close. The closeness filled his body like a teapot filling a cup, spreading a warmth and radiance from his dick to his head to his toes. His breathing became more like panting, short gasps of pleasure in between breaths. He was brimming with ecstasy, overflowing. He became so full that he arched his back and gasped. “Ah!” a short, euphoric sound that gave way to another. “Ah!” It was coming.  _ He _ was coming. He could feel it in every square inch of his body.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he whined. “I don’t want to cum. I don’t want... _ fuuuck. _ ”

He screamed involuntarily, shooting his seed down his chest, getting some of it on his pecs, in his hair, on his shoulder, his face, his  _ bed _ . It got fucking everywhere. His legs gave out and his hips slammed back down onto the mattress so hard it rocked the bed.

Caspar was in a daze. He couldn’t do anything but lay there, covered in his own cum, and breathe. He thought of nothing, of no one. He couldn’t think of anything. His mind was blank for what felt like an hour before he could finally even open his eyes. The pure white ceiling filled his entire field of vision, and he honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if he managed to hit that, too.

“God  _ damn _ ,” Caspar sighed, the ability of speech returning to him at last. A laugh built up inside him and escaped his lips uninhibited. He felt  _ elated.  _ Every inch of his body was jelly. It took a bit of strength, but he finally managed to pull himself off the bed. The room spun. He’d never had an orgasm  _ that  _ good before. He’d come pretty close a couple of times, but never like this. 

Ho. Ly. Shit.

Once his vision steadied and his balance returned to him, he shakily stood up and headed to the bathroom, turning on the shower to wash all of the jizz off. After he showered and dried off, he was about to hop back down on his bed and promptly pass out, when he noticed the rather large spot of cum over by his pillow. Guess he had to do some laundry after all.

Whatever. He wiped it off with a tissue and jumped into bed anyway. That was a problem for tomorrow-Caspar. Right now, he really just needed a nap.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in a few days! I ran out of chapters that I'd already written and had been busy with other things, and also not super in the mood to write porn lol But I got a burst of inspiration today so I finished this chapter for you guys! Hope you enjoy it

The bar smelled like cheap beer and cigarettes, which mixed with the smell of stale piss as you got closer to the bathrooms. This was the bar Caspar had recommended, though. Said it was the best bar on campus. Byleth had initially been skeptical of going out for drinks while still on campus, but Caspar had assured them that nobody would even bat an eye.

“I got tons of classmates who’ve been out drinking with their professors,” he’d said. “Hell, I’m pretty sure Sylvain and that choir teacher, you know, the one with the huge baps, pretty sure they’ve done more than just go out drinking.”

Saying it like that didn’t exactly dissuade Byleth’s worries. The way he said, it almost made it seem like they were going on a date.

Byleth had spent the entire week since the _incident_ , as they’d been calling it, trying to convince themself that they weren’t attracted to Caspar, that he was just another student, albeit a rather adorable one. They’d managed to be mostly successful by their second class period with him, but when the offer for drinks came up again, Byleth had to force everything back down their throat.

“I didn’t even realize you were 21,” they’d said upon the suggestion. 

“Yep! I’m 23.”

This revelation certainly did not help the situation. When they were under the impression that Caspar was 18, it was easy to push the thoughts away. He was way too young. They could never date somebody an entire decade younger than they were. But five years...five years was more doable. _Which wasn’t the kind of thought they wanted to have when they were trying to rid themself of these feelings._

Byleth checked their watch. Caspar was late. They hoped everything was okay. It was only a couple minutes after their agreed-upon meeting time, so they tried not to worry too much.

Sure enough, Caspar walked through the doors soon after. He noticed Byleth and waved to them, smiling wide. _Fuck_ , he was too cute.

 _Keep it in your pants, Byleth,_ they warned themself. He was still a student of theirs. It wouldn’t be right.

“Hey,” Caspar said, sliding in across the table.

“Hey, yourself.”

The waitress, who Byleth recognized as another student, approached them to take their drink orders. She wasn’t one of Byleth’s students, but they’d seen her around the halls carrying books around. She was tall and curvy and had long, dark brown hair and a cheery smile.

“Hi, can I get you guys anything to drink?” she said, pulling out a notepad.

“Oh, hey Dorothea,” said Caspar. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Oh, hi Caspar! Yeah, I just started last week. Wow, I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you, haha.”

“Yeah, my blue hair is pretty distinctive.”

Dorothea took their orders and headed back into the kitchen. She made no assumptions about the two of them. Byleth wasn’t even sure if she realized they were a professor.

“See?” Caspar said quietly. “Nobody even cares that we’re here together.”

“I guess.” Byleth shrugged.

Dorothea returned with their drinks and then asked if they wanted anything to eat. Byleth wasn’t very hungry, but Caspar ordered a basket of chicken fingers to go along with his beer. Byleth suddenly felt weirdly self-conscious about the rum and coke they’d ordered.

“Oh,” Caspar said, upon taking a gulp of his beer. “So, that quiz on Tuesday…”

“Yeah?”

“Anything in particular I should study for it?”

Byleth laughed. “That’s the real reason you invited me out for drinks, wasn’t it? To loosen me up to get test answers.”

“Whaaat? _Nooooo,”_ Caspar said, but his goofy grin deceived him. Byleth smiled.

“Review the first couple chapters of _Paradise Lost_ , and go through some of the poems we analyzed.”

“Hey, I was totally kidding,” Caspar said, “but thanks.”

“Sure, okay,” Byleth teased.

Dorothea returned with Caspar’s chicken fingers, along with a second round of drinks, and Byleth couldn’t help but steal a fry or two. They weren’t super hungry, but they just looked so tasty.

“So, forgive me if I sound rude,” Byleth said, taking a sip of their drink. “But if you’re 23, why are you in a freshman-level literature course?”

Caspar sucked down his second beer like it was the first liquid he’d seen in days. He sighed as he finished it off, then set the glass down near the edge of the table. He tried to make eye contact with Dorothea for another one, but she was in the back and couldn’t see him.

“Well,” he said, wiping the foam from his lips. “It’s ‘cause I am a freshman. This is my first year of college.”

“Why’d you wait so long? Again, forgive me if I’m being rude.”

“You’re good, dude,” Caspar said. “I served in the army for about four years right out of high school. When I realized it was an absolute hellhole, I got out at the first opportunity. Lived off of veterans benefits out of my dad’s place for a while, but I needed to get out of the house. My dad’s not…”

Dorothea materialized with a refill for Caspar. He thanked her, and took a long sip before continuing. “He’s...not the greatest person. It was hard being around him all the time. For a while I tried to find a job to give me enough cash to move out, but even with military experience, it’s hard to get hired anywhere without a college degree.”

“What are you studying?”

Caspar shrugged, an awkward feat while taking another gulp of his beer. “Dunno yet. I’d love to get into something like sports medicine.”

“That’d be cool.”

Byleth watched as Caspar tipped his glass back and finished off his third beer. “You might want to slow down,” they said.

Since Caspar’s mouth was a bit preoccupied with the last few sips of his beer, he shook his hand out in affirmation. “Don’t worry about it,” he said with a sigh. “I’m German, this shit’s like water to me.”

“No, I mean, like…” Byleth gave him a look, a sort of forceful eye-contact, with a raised brow and a knowing gaze.

Caspar looked down at the empty glass in his hand. He shrugged, and placed it near the edge of the table. “It’s fine,” he said. “There’s a bathroom right over there. And now that I’ve already—” he lowered his voice, “you know—in front of you, I’m not even worried about getting up to go to the bathroom.”

“Why...why _did_ that happen the other day?” Byleth asked. “Not to bring up traumatic memories but…”

“No, it’s cool. I...honestly, it was a combination of things. I couldn’t find the fucking bathroom in the student center before running into you, and I didn’t want to be late to our meeting. And then once we were there, I dunno. I just...I wanted to make a good impression, and I didn’t think interrupting your lesson to go pee was going to do that.”

“Caspar,” Byleth said, a sincere smile in their voice. “First of all, ignoring your own bodily functions is probably not the _best_ way to make a first impression? If you had just excused yourself to the bathroom, I would have understood. Hell, I even went to the bathroom while we were meeting.”

“I guess…I dunno. Heh, I never said it was a _good_ reason.”

“Fair enough.”

Dorothea returned with another refill for Caspar. Byleth has just finished their second drink and was contemplating whether or not to get another, when Dorothea brought out a third rum and coke for them anyway.

Caspar’s eyes were starting to look a bit droopy, and sip after sip, his smile grew wider and wider.

“I thought you said this shit was like water to you,” Byleth teased.

“Shut up,” Caspar laughed. He sipped on his beer some more, slowly getting a bit drunker with each sip.

Byleth would be lying if they said they weren’t starting to feel it a bit, too. A hazy fog in their mind started rolling in. They looked at Caspar in front of them, his face flushed, wearing a dopey grin. Byleth laughed, for no real reason, and Caspar apparently found the nothing funny as well.

It was also around this time that the first two rum and cokes were starting to hit their bladder. It wasn’t bad enough for them to get up and go yet, especially if they didn’t want to break the seal just yet, but it was definitely noticeable. The same thing must have just occurred to Caspar, because he began shifting in his seat a little as well, trying to make inconspicuous grabs at himself under the table.

“Hey, you wanna get out of here?” Byleth suggested.

They weren’t in any shape to drive home yet, but they suddenly and abruptly craved some fresh air. Byleth figured the two of them could wander the streets for a bit until they sobered up.

“One more round?” Caspar said, flashing them a sly grin that Byleth couldn’t help but smile in response to.

“Sure, one more round. You’re paying right?” They winked.

“Oh, of course.”

And so, Dorothea brought them one last round of drinks after they’d finished off their previous ones, beginning to look slightly concerned, but not as if this wasn’t something she’d seen before. Caspar chugged his beer, finishing it off with a belch. Byleth laughed. They tried to do the same thing with their rum and coke, but the syrupy cola mixed with the alcohol didn’t sit well with their stomach, so they stopped. They called Dorothea over and asked for some waters, which Dorothea looked relieved to hear.

Once they’d both finished their waters, and Byleth’s stomach was no longer mad at them, Caspar went up to pay. Byleth considered stopping at the restroom before they left, but when they approached the door, they found it locked. It must have been a single-person restroom and somebody was already in it. Oh well, they didn’t have to go that badly.

Byleth met up with Caspar at the counter.

“Hey,” he said, smiling at them.

“Hey, yourself.”

Caspar beamed. Dorothea handed him his receipt. “Be safe,” she said.

“Don’t worry,” Byleth assured her. “I’ll look after him. We’re gonna wander around until we sober up.”

“Good,” Dorothea said, but the look in her eyes told Byleth that she didn’t exactly trust their word. Maybe they appeared drunker than they thought.

“Hey, I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick before we leave,” Caspar said.

“There’s somebody in it, I think,” Byleth told him.

He bit his lip. “Damn it. I really have to pee.”

Byleth tried not to let the effect that sentence had on them show on their face, but even if it didn’t, the crotch of their pants growing tight likely didn’t help matters. They coughed. “We can swing by the student center,” they said.

Caspar grabbed himself, just for a second. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

They said good-bye to Dorothea and headed out the door. It was mid-way through the fall semester, so the air was cool and crisp, but not cold. Byleth was fine wearing a light jacket, but Caspar, for some ungodly reason, decided to go out wearing nothing but a t-shirt. He shivered a bit as they stepped outside.

“Are you cold?” Byleth asked.

“A little bit,” he said. “But I’m fine. Let’s just head over to the student center, please. I have to piss like a racehorse.”

Byleth shoved their hands in their pockets and used them as cover to discreetly adjust themself. Caspar really needed to stop talking about how badly he needed to pee. First off, it was making _them_ have to pee even more, and second, there was a definite possibility that if they got any more excited, Byleth might come in their pants.

They tried to think about other things, to make their erection go down. For a minute or so, it worked, but then they glanced over at Caspar and saw him bouncing slightly as they walked, and boned right up again.

Man, at this rate, they wouldn’t be able to pee even when they did reach a bathroom.

Finally, they made it to the student center. Caspar breathed a heavy sigh of relief and ran towards the door. He pulled on the handle and…

It didn’t move.

“Fuck,” he mumbled.

“Locked?”

“Yeah.”

Byleth checked their watch. Jesus, it was already past 10:30. Student center closed at 10 on Saturdays. They hadn’t realized they’d been at that bar for upwards of two hours.

It was a weekend, too, which meant pretty much _everything_ was closed now. All of the restaurants, the library, and definitely all of the classroom buildings, were locked tight. Caspar hopelessly tugged on the door to the student center, letting out a whine.

“Fuck, man,” he said, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was grabbing his dick anymore. “I don’t think I can hold it all the way back to my dorm.”

Byleth, despite their overwhelming arousal at everything that was happening right now, suddenly realized how badly they had to go, too. It probably wasn’t a good idea to follow Caspar up to his dorm room, not to mention the fact that he would have to sign them in, which would only prolong both of their desperation. They probably wouldn’t make it all the way there anyway. The pressure in their bladder was slowly becoming more and more noticeable as the alcohol slowly started to wear off. The fog dissipated from their brain leaving only the sting of a full bladder.

Fodlan was mostly a commuter school, with many of the resident students returning home for the weekend, so campus was mostly a dead zone right now. Which worked in their favor. If they could find a spot away from security cameras and prying eyes…

“Follow me,” Byleth said.

Caspar looked like he wanted to ask, but he was too desperate to object. He followed Byleth as they ducked around towards the art building they’d led him to during The Incident. Caspar whined the entire way, which really was not helping Byleth’s other problem. If they couldn’t get their dick to go down, they wouldn’t be able to pee. Or worse, Caspar could see, and then things would get very uncomfortable, to say the least.

Luckily, the throb in their bladder was taking care of most of that. By the time they reached the side of the building, they had softened to a respectable half-chub, which was likely just soft enough for them to piss.

“God, oh god, oh god,” Caspar groaned. “I really don’t wanna piss myself again.”

Damn it. Caspar really needed to shut up. Byleth was already rock hard again.

“You won’t,” Byleth encouraged. “But even if you do, you can just say you were drunk.”

“I really don’t wanna piss myself in front of _you_ again.”

The worst part about this whole thing, was that Byleth couldn’t help but think, _I do. I want you to piss yourself in front of me again._ God, they were gross. They were awful and gross and terrible. And gross.

They ducked behind a line of bushes along the side of the art building. “Here,” said Byleth. “No cameras, nobody’s around.”

Caspar didn’t need to be told twice. Before Byleth could even turn around, he’d rushed up to the wall and unzipped his jeans. Byleth had only just gotten to turn away before he pulled his dick out. Byleth closed their eyes and tried not to think about what was happening right next to them, but it was really hard to block out the sound of Caspar’s moans, and his stream hitting the brick in front of him.

Fuck. They were so hard, but they also had to pee so, so bad. _Dead puppies. Naked grandma. Think of something,_ anything, _to go soft and pee. Two plus two equals four, four plus four equals eight, eight plus eight equals sixteen…_

It was unbearable now, the pressure in their bladder. They rushed up to the wall, standing beside Caspar, but angling themself so that they couldn’t see Caspar going, and Caspar couldn’t see them trying to.

 _Sixteen plus sixteen equals thirty-two._ Byleth, eyes still squeezed shut, unzipped and pulled out their cock. It was still hard, but not nearly as painfully erect as it had been a few minutes ago. _Thirty-two plus thirty-two equals sixty-four. Sixty-four plus sixty-four equals...one twenty-eight? One twenty-eight plus one twenty-eight is…_

“Oh fuck,” Byleth moaned as _finally_ they got soft enough for their stream to start up, shaky at first but soon growing into a strong, forceful gush of piss.

Caspar was still going. Byleth could hear it. They tried not to focus on it, because they knew if they did, they’d get hard again, and their flow would be mercilessly cut off. So they focused on breathing—in through the nose, out through the mouth. They focused on that math problem: _two fifty-six plus two fifty-six equals...five...twelve?_ Yeah, that sounded right.

They peed for what felt like ages, but finally, their stream cut off. Caspar finished around the same time as them, and they both ended up shaking and putting away their dicks at around the same time. Byleth was surprised at first, considering how much of a head-start he’d gotten, but then remembered that Caspar had easily had a fair number more drinks than he had, and they were taller glasses, as well.

Caspar breathed a heavy sigh of relief, leaning forward and resting his head against the wall as he caught his breath.

“That,” he said, “felt amazing.”

Byleth pursed their lips. Anything to hide their aroused smile. Now that their bladder was emptied, there was nothing stopping their dick from getting hard again. Stop. _Stop._ They had to stop thinking this way. This was one of their students, they can’t think about him like this.

Byleth was quiet on the way back to Caspar’s dorm. Caspar didn’t seem to notice, though, because he babbled on the entire way back. While Byleth was mostly sober at this point, Caspar was still pretty tipsy. It was cute, the way he swayed as he walked, the very slight slur to his words, the blush on his face.

When they finally reached the dorm, Byleth fully intended on just saying good-bye and walking back to their car, but was taken completely off-guard as Caspar through his arms around them and squeezed them tight.

“Thanks again, Professor,” he said. “For going out with me tonight, for helping me out _again_.” He pulled away and gave Byleth a half-drunken grin. “Hopefully you saving me from pissing myself doesn’t become a regular thing.” He laughed.

Byleth laughed too, slightly exaggeratedly. Because even though they kept telling themself otherwise, deep down Byleth knew.

They actually kind of _wanted_ it to become a regular thing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is so short! Hopefully I'll get a burst of inspiration when writing the next chapter, because that's where the slow-burn romance really starts to get going haha.

It was back to business as usual on Tuesday. As much as it could be, at least. Caspar had to pretend that he didn’t go home Saturday night half-drunk and full-horny and masturbate furiously to the symphony that were the sounds of his piss stream blending with Professor’s etched into his memory. He definitely did not do that, and he definitely did not come in approximately twelve seconds.

He kept his head down in class, being sure to not make eye contact with the Professor, but also not make it obvious. He just knew that if he had to look directly at them, his face would flare up and all of the nasty thoughts he had about them this weekend would come rushing back, just like the blood flow would rush straight to his dick.

It was one thing to have a bit of a crush on his professor. Hell, Professor Eisner wasn’t even the first professor he’d jerked it to (that honor was reserved for his old high school chemistry teacher). But now they were sort of becoming...friends? So it just felt weird.

Maybe Caspar was looking too deep into it. They probably just thought of him as another one of their students. Any notions of friendship were probably just made up in his head. He  _ wanted _ to be friends with the Professor, so he was starting to believe that they were.

Thursday was the same thing. Kept his head down, pretended he didn’t jerk off to them  _ again _ last night. But then his quiz was handed back to him.

“A D?” Caspar muttered to himself, flipping the paper over so no one else could see. What the hell happened? He’d actually studied this time! So, he finally decided to break his no-eye-contact rule, and went up to the Professor after class.

“Hey, Professor, is this right?” he asked, showing them the paper in his hands.

Professor looked it over for a second and said, “Yes, it is. Did you actually study the material I asked you to on Saturday?”

Caspar’s face reddened. They brought up Saturday, and now the memories were rushing back to him once again. He and the Professor, standing side by side, dicks out, moaning in relief as they emptied their drunken bladders. He willed his dick to stay soft, to little avail.

“I did! I actually did this time!”

Disappointment bubbled up within his throat. Fuck, shove it down, Caspar. He was  _ not _ going to cry over this. Not in front of the Professor.

But God, he actually  _ tried _ , and still he wasn’t good enough.

Professor must have sensed his inner turmoil, or maybe he just wasn’t as good at hiding his emotions as he thought, because they placed a hand over theirs.

“Listen, Caspar. I can’t change this grade now, but I can help you going forward. I want to see you succeed. You’re a really bright student and I know you have it in you to do well.”

Shit. Yeah, Caspar definitely felt a tear or two welling up in his eyes. He rubbed them away and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “What do you need me to do?”

Professor opened up their laptop and clicked a few things. Caspar couldn’t see the screen, but they were probably looking up his grades.

“Okay, let’s see,” they said. “In order to get a passing grade in this class, you’ll need to get at least a B on the rest of the quizzes, and an A in at least one of the two exams. It’ll be a lot of work, but I’m prepared to help you through it.” They looked up at him. “What do you say to another tutoring session tomorrow?”

“I can’t, actually.” Caspar frowned. “It’s my Dad’s birthday, so I have to go home.”

If Caspar thought he could get out of his Dad’s birthday, he would. But his Dad was not the kind of person you wanted to cross, and he really would rather not risk making him mad by asking if he can skip the birthday dinner. “I’ll be back that night, though, so I could do Saturday.”

“I’m not on campus on Saturday,” Professor said.

“Oh, right, yeah.” Caspar still hadn’t fully gotten rid of the  _ teachers live at school _ idea in his head.

Professor closed their laptop and started putting away their things. “Tell you what though,” they said. “I have some errands to run during the day, but if you want to stop by in the evening, I can help you then. I’ll order us a pizza or something.”

“Wait, you mean like...go to your house?”

“If you’re comfortable with that.”

Caspar smiled. “Definitely.”

The thought of going over to the Professor’s house was strangely exciting. Not even in the way he  _ usually _ meant the word ‘exciting.’ It was just really intriguing to see where they lived. He pictured them living in this quaint little townhouse with elegant wallpaper and impeccable interior design.

But, oh man. What if they were already in a relationship? What if he went over and had to spend the day trying to keep his emotions in check around their partner? Having a crush on a professor was one thing, but a crush on a married professor?

Whatever. He decided not to think about it. Maybe if they  _ were _ married, it would get rid of his crush. It’s not like he could ever act on it anyway.

Still, the idea of being in a cozy, private space with the Professor…

Caspar couldn’t wait.


End file.
